


The Monster Under My Bed

by nicocha



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Depressing, Gen, How Do I Tag, My First Fanfic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, bucky's headspace durring the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicocha/pseuds/nicocha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's been stuck in this room for what seems like an eternity, any attempt to leave through the sole door was greeted by the shadow that existed in the next room. He cannot remember and doesn't care anymore why its there but there are things he knows. Things that he knows are missing from a room that used to be filled and bright, but the room now is fading and he fears that he will fade with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Monster Under My Bed

**Author's Note:**

> So this would be my first story here and honestly the first fanfic I've done since my Supernatural days. I just couldn't deny my curiosity after reading a couple really amazing fanfics about Bucky dealing with a split personality and where he exists in his head. My sad realization is that hes in his own apartment but its dying... think silent hill style. Any-who mistakes are mine because its been a while and its my first foray into this fandom. If you wanna read this as Starbucks go for it, I dont really have a ship for this fandom it ended up being a little more shippy than i intended. And because I am way better at art then writing this is how i imagined the room. Hope you like it!

 

There are things He knows are wrong. No. He knows it's all wrong. He just can't remember  _why_  he knows. 

He knows that he has been sitting in the empty room for so long that he can catalog the shift in mold, the spreading of the cracks and the ever present sense of what’s missing. There is a stain where water had once spilled onto the ground but there has never been water before. There are tiny holes in the wall where nails held picture frames, but they have faded from existence. He can’t recall what those frames held just that they, at one time, had hung on the walls. He glances at the mold growing in thick sickly patches, every so often he can see things moving in them. Images. People. People soaked in blood, kids crying, broken bodies....

He shakes his head to clear the thoughts. Instead he returns to his list of things he knows. He knows that the room used to be full. Full of light, full of things. Now, there is nothing. A single door, a door he knows not to open. The Shadow owns that room, through the only door is a vicious Shadow. He knows that he has confronted the Shadow before but can barely remember what came after. He knows certain things about their interactions; he knows that after each meeting the Shadow will carry him back into "His" room. The Shadow will then gently place him back in the same spot he always sits in. It will then, almost lovingly, stroke his hair before dissolving back through the door. The door that, he knows, should always remain closed.

He knows that He has lost something... or was it someone? He grits his teeth and focuses. A Person, he realizes. There is a loud sound emanating from the door. He looks up startled. There has been no sound in- there has never been any sound before. No sound but his own uneasy breathing and the occasional hiss or growl from the Shadow when he tries to locate the windows he believes are somewhere in the room. He is shocked. This has never happened; he hears the Shadow respond to the sound but can no longer understand the odd pattern of noises through the wall. He slides up off of the broken wall and unsteadily crosses the room to the door.  He hesitantly reaches up his hand to knock on the door. It swings open; he enters slowly as quietly as possible. The room is dark, sterile cold, so very very cold. There are monitors and equipment neatly placed around. In one corner there is a coffin like object that he can't identify but knows it terrifies him. The sound begins again from behind, it's different this time.  A whisper, it's a whisper. He feels eyes on his back, he turns slowly. His gaze is met by the Shadow's, cold and calculating. It is seated in a chair. He can make out other voices, he is surrounded by translucent figures speaking around the Shadow. They must be ghosts; there are no other people but him and the Shadow. A man walks directly through him towards the Shadow, the man  _demands_ answers, and he can hear the Shadow reply looking the man in the eye. That is the wrong response, He knows, the man slaps the Shadow hard across the face-He touches his own cheek feeling it burn. He knows, now, something is wrong. He needs to leave. This is dangerous, He never feels anything anymore, he might have once but it isn't something he knows. He tries to step out of the room back into his decayed cell but He is frozen. 

He can feel the metal close in on his own arms as it mirrors the Shadows limbs. It's a ghost of what the Shadow is feeling, panic wells in his chest. He fights against the invisible restraints thrashing about. He tries to scream but nothing leaves his mouth. Suddenly, he is no longer in front of the Shadow; he is in It’s place, in the chair. No struggling, his limbs know what to expect. He bites the bit that shoved in his face, his chest constricts as he is leaned back. He is about to thrash around, in his panic but feels a warm hand over his face. It blocks his view of the room, and what comes next. 

"Don’t” the Shadow whispers in his ear. He tries to mumble though the mouth guard but despite everything no sound escapes his throat. The Shadow moves to strokes his greasy, limp hair; shiny metal catches His now open eyes. He tries to turn his head to follow the shine of it but the Shadow locks his head in place. It coos at him, like He is a child. "Relax, it will be over soon." the voice is rough and staggered, heavily accented with a language He doesn't know. He wants to struggle again as crackling echoes near his head. Metal replaces the Shadow’s hands. "I will shield you from our Masters. That is the reason you cre-" whatever comes next is drowned out by sharp buzzing and shrieks. His body explodes in pain.

 

He wakes some time later as the Shadow dissolves from his view. He has been returned to his room and placed back where he woke last; against the same far side wall. He goes back to his list. He knows that more things have changed around him, it happens anytime He confronts the Shadow. There is a new gap in the floor, more peeling, faded paint, cracks lace the bare walls, the album that he thinks once had photos, or drawings, is nothing but a pile of ash. The temperature has dropped. Even the colors of the room have leached out again, becoming faint grey where they were once... something. He can’t recall colors anymore but what use were they in His room. He sighs; he fears one day he will turn grey. That He too will simply fade into the walls and floor like the rest of the objects, he knows once furnished the room.

His eyes drift closed. He may fear fading but at least it would be something different; something  _new_. Something peaceful. The odd sound he identified before has returned again, again, again……………………..again…………………….again…….. againagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagainagain

It's not the Shadows hisses or even It's voice. He still has fragments of it stroking his hair. This-this is old and... familiar. He wants it gone-wants it to  _ **stop!**_ He wants to scream at it to stop but even then His attempt is met by failure. He covers his ears and screams again but the voice he hoped to boom out of his body doesn't exist. Perhaps it never did. 

The sound changes, the room quakes and flickers. There's a light, is that what light looks like?! He reaches for it, suddenly on his feet. The shadow has draped itself behind him again. His room is melting, panic would set in if He was by himself but the Shadow is right behind him, holding his arm up ready to strike. There is a figure below him. A figure He knows, The Missing Something. Gold and Sky Blue. Sunshine and Blue sky, the thing beyond his missing windows. The thing he was seeking for so long. 

His Sunshine is bruised and battered. The Shadow whispers an apology in his ear. Anguish stabs him in the gut. The place they are in now is very different from His room; it's a place full of glass and metal. It learches forward. The glass underfoot shatters and the man made of Sunlight drops below. This is something He both  _knows_  and  _ **remembers.**_ Something that his room once contained. The Shadow moves Him so he doesn't fall as well. 

"We know him." It whispers again. "Steve." He croaks and is shocked to hear the Shadow’s voice escape out of his mouth. He tries to look at the Shadow, see for the first time what it looks like beyond the darkness; but there is nothing. He can feel it all around him; tangible but- _Steve_ , his mind screams. The Shadow releases his metal arm and they plummet after Steve. 

**Author's Note:**

> The titles from the Eminem and Rihanna song The Monster. The hook fits too well to be ignored... so uh let me know what you think? If you want more? im not sure where i would go with it but if you have ideas let me know! <3
> 
> I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed  
> Get along with the voices inside of my head  
> You're trying to save me, stop holding your breath  
> And you think I'm crazy, yeah, you think I'm crazy
> 
> Well, that's nothing  
> Well, that's nothing


End file.
